


Rep Your Clique

by honorablementioned



Series: Controversy Loves Company (Villain Con AU) [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abel POV, Crack, Hannibal POV, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Smitten Hannibal, Villain Con AU, everyone is besotted with Hannibal basically, fanboy Abel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorablementioned/pseuds/honorablementioned
Summary: Abel admired the talent, the ease, the commitment. His own poor wife and family had not been anything more than an uncontrollable excitement, an inspiration that Abel couldn't wait to hang above his mantel in a frame. He had rushed, ruined, tainted the idea he was given - but Hannibal cherished, nurtured, and delicately sculpted each and every one that came to his imagination.--AU in which Hannibal attends a villain convention, Will runs a kissing booth, and Abel pops a boner over the Ripper's art.





	Rep Your Clique

**Author's Note:**

> These aren't stand alones, so I highly recommend reading the other fliclets in this series to make sense of what's going on.

Abel Gideon couldn't help but admire the control that Hannibal Lecter held.

The man is an artist; every person a canvas and every interaction became a moment of inspiration. The first word in any conversation is the basis for an idea for the Chesapeake Ripper, the following sentences the sketches for his design. The climax of their topic resulted in placing the easel on its legs and the final farewells are the initial brush strokes of the masterpiece at hand.

In the time it would take any fool to end a life, Hannibal Lecter would be finishing the rough draft for a true work of appreciation.

Abel admired the talent, the ease, the commitment. His own poor wife and family had not been anything more than an uncontrollable excitement, an inspiration that Abel couldn't wait to hang above his mantel in a frame. He had rushed, ruined, tainted the idea he was given - but Hannibal cherished, nurtured, and delicately sculpted each and every one that came to his imagination.

So you can understand the surprise that Abel experienced when he went for some fresh air outside of the hotel - away from convention patrons, away from the crowded halls and lobbies - and saw Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, dragging a corpse out into one of the vacant fields that surrounded the building. The exceptionally controlled and articulate Ripper was cutting into his canvas - his potential, his feast - with less finesse than a starving dog tearing into a steak.

His plastic suit is donned in blood splatter and his gloved hands covered in raw materials from the victim underneath him. Hannibal's normally perfect combed hair was disheveled and unruly and sweat matted his bangs to his forehead. From Abel's point of view behind a nearby tree he had to squint to see the maniac grin adorning the other man's face. The spark in the Ripper's eyes reminded Abel of the typical glee that killer's experienced with a hunt, but there was something else there that told him this was much more than just mere joy. 

This was no normal Ripper masterpiece - far from it, it seemed. Abstract, almost, in its simplicity. Passion was obviously the motive if the heaving of Hannibal's chest and the carving of his canvas' with such sporadic movements had any indication. You would have to be blind to not see the representation of lust, of _love_. Hannibal was lifting the heart of the pig and looking at it with such wonder that Abel held back a gag.

Never would he imagine the Chesapeake Ripper to be _in love_. Abel had been in love once, but he knew this was beyond any normal comprehension of the feeling. This was love laced with obsession, soaked in possession and wrapped in consumption. This was the only sort of love Hannibal Lecter was possible of. Abel gave a silent prayer up towards the heavens for the unlucky bastard that caught the killer's attention.

Abel admired Hannibal for his control, but he also knew it was only a matter of time before that control broke. No one could be that composed forever, and Abel stifled a laugh at the reality that the famous Ripper would be brought to his knees by such a weakness. Love gave fuel to the soul, but it also ate away at your entire being - or at least in Abel's experience it did. He can still remember his wife's rosy cheeks and bashful smile, far too tempting to resist, but also a hindrance of him being his true self. She had to go, you understand.

Abel keeps his gaze on Hannibal Lecter standing in the field, bloody and wild and while it was a lovely sight, the reasoning behind this beauty was too much for him to stomach.

 _But_ , he thought as he made his way back to the hotel's entrance, _it wouldn't hurt to see the finished piece before the gallery showing, now would it?_

\--

Hannibal's day drew on longer than he anticipated. The first panel he played host to had extended far past the designated time slot - too many questions, too many over eager fans vying for his attention - and thus the second panel of the day ran late and over the next time slot, and so on and so forth. By the time three o'clock rolls around he knows he's hard pressed to finish his dinner for this evening.

At three thirty he all but pushes the patrons from the room. He doesn't shove, nor yell, but politely reminds them of the other guests who are showcasing their talents throughout the convention and that they need far more recognition than he does. When the last guest leaves he closes the door to the private room and heaves a sigh of relief.

The heart he harvested last night is marinating in the portable mini-fridge that the convention hosts provided for his panel presentation. Hannibal made sure to prepare the marinade - red wine, garlic cloves, thyme, sage, and parsley - before his hunt. Twenty four hours was recommended to ensure that the heart soaked in as much flavor as possible, but Hannibal reasoned that he could make it work with seventeen if he were careful with the preparation. 

_Coeur de boeuf a la Tripieres_ was a classic that Hannibal always enjoyed making, though the opportunity never seemed to arise to pull this recipe out. The electric skillet starts to sizzle as he adds in strips of lean bacon and lets them crisp while he turns his attention to slicing onions. The panel rooms fills with savory scents in mere moments and Hannibal's chest tightens as he thinks of tonight's finished feast, already imagining the expression on Will's face as he presents it to the young man.

 _Will_. Hannibal's heart seizes at the mere thought of the man. He was a delicacy; his Cupid that shot straight through Hannibal's heart with perfect aim. Their endeavor last night may have only consisted of aspiring intimacy - Hannibal didn't want to scare him, not after he knew the true reason behind his devious demeanor - but he was certain Will wanted to go farther than a mere affair. The apprehension from yesterday was understandable. Hannibal knew who he was, how people thought of him. Most admirers thought that they were on the same tier as the Ripper, but not Will. Will thought himself to be so beneath Hannibal, not sure why the man gave Will even the slightest time of day. 

Hannibal internally scoffed at the thought as he took the bacon from the skillet and let the strips cool. The onions were added to sear and the bacon was then minced. The heart and its marinade were added to a small dutch oven, the bacon and onions following moments later. The portable oven behind his preparation table was already pre-heated to two hundred and fifty degrees and Hannibal covered the pot before placing it on one of the racks. 

By the time seven o'clock came he would only need to ensure that the potatoes were soft enough to spear and that the gravy was made from the leftover marinade. By eight he would make sure the chairs in the panel room were cleared to have enough space so he could have a table set for two in their place. A bottle of Chianti was already sitting on the counter top, the empty one beside it already used in tonight's meal.

Everything was meant to be perfect this evening. Hannibal rarely admitted when he was nervous, if he ever was, and this may be the only time in the last decade that he felt the stirrings of unsettlement sit low in his gut.

Will thought of himself as beneath Hannibal, but Hannibal saw him as the only one who could dare understand the Ripper. They may have different moral backgrounds when it came to their prey, may have different methods of capture - Hannibal's hunting, Will's fishing - but they were more alike than Will knew. Will saw the horror, where as Hannibal saw the potential. Will made simplistic pieces of reality, but Hannibal morphed his victims into beauty that only few would truly appreciate. Both artists in their own right, both intent on catching the public's eye for recognition. They wanted people to know the truth behind these pigs and took extreme measures to ensure it.

Hannibal knew he only needed to convince Will that they were more than equals. They were cut from the same cloth, different stitchings but fabricated just alike. 

But even while Hannibal knew this, it didn't deter from the fact that Will could say no. Will, from what Hannibal has learned thus far, is a stubborn man. He may think Hannibal is trying to change him, or worse, use him for his own gain. In truth, Will is the last person Hannibal wants to manipulate. Intelligent and beautiful with a spitfire attitude, Will was perfect. Even with his self confidence issues he still came alive when he took control as Cupid, and Hannibal was more than happy to help Will see past his persona. Hannibal wants to consume the man behind the kills, appreciate the beauty in Will's simplicity and expose the man to the truths about himself.

This dinner needed to show Will Hannibal's dedication. He may throw dinner parties and the like on occasion, but hearts were made special. Hearts are reserved for Hannibal himself...the fact that he was making one to share with Will spoke volumes of his commitment. 

Will was his, and he was Will's. Two parts of a whole that only needed to mesh together again before taking its true form.

With a deep sigh Hannibal turns to check on the heart baking in the oven, but stills as he hears footsteps outside of the door. He took precautions with this afternoon, knows that there is an _off limits_ sign adorning the entrance to the panel room. It's well known that this is the Ripper's presentation area, so who would dare come so close to his closed off territory?

A few knocks on the locked door have Hannibal across the room in mere seconds. He carefully unlocks the door and peels it open to see just who seems keen on getting themselves gutted, and is mildly surprised to see Abel Gideon with a grin on his face standing there.

"Abel Gideon," Hannibal greets, opening the door further to fully take in the other man's presence. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine, Doctor Lecter." Abel's expression is haughty, over zealous. "I _do_ apologize for interrupting, but a little birdie informed me of a dinner you were having and I wanted to know if it was open to the public."

Hannibal tilts his head at the inquiry. He told no one of his plans with Will, aside from giving the man aforementioned a personal invitation. How _would_ Abel know?

_Unless..._

"You seem to have been mistaken, Abel. When I was selecting my ingredients earlier today I did not mean to make it a spectacle, nor did I mean to make it more than just a private affair. I apologize for the confusion."

"Oh no, don't worry about it." Abel shrugs in a _what can you do_ manner. "You were so excited last night that I just assumed you would be giving a show today. That burial was just so rushed, I didn't have time to really appreciate seeing you in action."

"It is a personal work, you understand. One meant for the home instead of a gallery."

"Not even a teaser for the public? What a shame. You reminded me so much of myself that I couldn't help but feel nostalgic. Men do crazy things in the name of love, don't they?"

Hannibal gave a small quirk of his lips at Abel's words. "Love has been a primitive motivator for men and women alike over the centuries."

"Exactly," Abel agrees. He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms, looking up at Hannibal with another greasy smile. "It would be a shame if anyone took that away. My poor wife, God rest her soul, was the light of my life. I've never been the same since."

"You killed her, Abel," Hannibal reminds him.

"She was also my weakness. Love makes fools of us all, Doctor Lecter, and I'd hate to see someone like you fall victim to it just as I did." 

"What are you suggesting, Abel?" Hannibal asks, tilting his head. 

"Suggesting? I'm just giving some advice to a dear friend." Abel pushes himself off of the door frame and pats Hannibal on the shoulder. "Be careful with your heart, Hannibal. I don't want to see you hurt..."

Before Hannibal can reply, though, Abel pushes himself away from the door frame and walks away with a light wave. He leaves the doctor in thought, and murmurs under his breath as he makes his way down the convention hall.

"... _much_ ," He finishes, letting a small chortle roll up from his chest. "Oh Hannibal, what fools the two of us shall be."

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal should get some restraining orders.
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are my own.


End file.
